Page 18 of Hearts on Ice
He got that, and yes, he could see where that would be helpful, but lifting her meant they’d have to be a lot closer than he wanted.
“Come on,” she said, skating over to take his hand. “I believe you can do this.”
Uh-huh, she was turning on the charm. She hadn’t tried that on him this last week. He didn’t want to buy into it.
“I think it would be so much easier to see the two of you do it,” Lexi chimed in.
Declan widened his eyes in disbelief at her disloyalty.
“It’s no big deal,” Colby said, and he’d heard her say those words before. “We do it in slow motion, let the kids see, that’s it. They’re fortunate to have both of us here right now.”
Why did that work? He didn’t know why her words convinced him, but the next thing he knew, he was skating around the rink beside her, not holding hands as he might have usually done, but building the momentum. He caught her hand at the last minute to pull her in front of him, taking both hands and bending a little, stiffening his arms and pressing his hands into hers to raise her over his head, rotating her at the same time.
Damn, as strong as he thought he was, he was out of practice holding this amount of weight over his head, and his arms quivered. He wasn’t going to be able to complete the lift safely.
“Setting you down,” he said to warn her not to move into the next step, and lowered her to the ice with honestly, arms that betrayed him.
She skated away, then pivoted to turn to look back at him. He wasn’t sure if there was pity in her eyes, but he didn’t want to see it. He motioned her toward him with his hand, skating backwards.
She arched an eyebrow. “Again?”
“Yeah, I got this.”
She narrowed her eyes but started following him. “You better not drop me.”
“I won’t drop you.” But man, he’d forgotten how hard holding a hundred pounds straight up over his head was. And for this move, he had to shift to one hand, and lower her to stand on one blade on his thigh. “If you remember how to stand.”
“I remember.”
He had to trust that she did, and trust that she wouldn’t try to hurt him.
She caught up to him, he took her hands, both their arms stiff, and pushed her up over his head. He was able to hold the lift longer, but didn’t have the control to lower her out over his leg.
“Maybe we can try it without skates first,” Lexi said. “I actually don’t feel comfortable putting my skate on his leg yet anyway.”
Colby humphed. “The momentum of moving on the ice helps the lift,” she pointed out.
“I agree with Lexi,” Declan said, not wanting to sound like he was giving up, but it was a tricky move. Maybe more risky than they needed to attempt. “It’s not so much the lift as the lowering her onto his knee that’s going to take practice.” He looked at the clock over the entrance to the rink. “It’s almost time for you to go on to school. We can work on it this afternoon before we get on the ice. For now, let’s finish off the time by practicing those triple toes.”
While he sent his students to practice, he motioned again for Colby to come toward him.
“Oh, come on, Declan. Your arms are going to be tired, and it won’t be safe.”
“I’m not going to drop you,” he said through his teeth.
“Your pride is too much.”
“Maybe.” But he was going to complete this lift properly. They’d done it so many times. His muscles just had to remember how to do it.
She put his hand in his as they skated backwards around the rink, and he tried not to think about how familiar that felt. How many years it had meant nothing, then how many years he’d savored the connection, the teamwork, then had lived without it. Now it felt foreign. Not wrong, not right. He couldn’t put his finger on it.
Then she turned to him, not meeting his gaze the way she used to, instead looking at his hands. She matched hers to his, pressing them together, and he lifted her, turning her at the same time, shifting her weight to one arm as she raised her hand above her head. He felt the strain of her weight all down his arm, down to his shoulder, down his back. He’d forgotten about that, and his back wasn’t as young as it used to be. He lowered her carefully until her skate balanced on his bent thigh—damn, he’d forgotten how much that hurt, but she was careful, so careful, and he shifted his hand to the middle of her back. She arched, leaning into his hand as he held her up and skated on his outside edges in a sweeping arch.
Then, without thinking, he reached his other hand up for her to take, and using another hand lift, took her weight from his thigh and tossed her back on the ice.
She landed flawlessly, like she’d last done this yesterday instead of seven years ago.
“How’s your leg?” she asked, skating back over to him, reaching her hand toward his thigh, landing exactly on the spot she’d stood on.
